


Hide Us From the Wrath of the Lamb

by Six_Black_Wings



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom Will Graham, Brief Alana Bloom/Hannibal Lecter, Courting Rituals, Courtship, Dark Will Graham, Episode: s02e07 Yakimono, Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, First Kiss, First Time, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Season/Series 02, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Top Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham is a Cannibal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:08:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23372200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Six_Black_Wings/pseuds/Six_Black_Wings
Summary: The moment Will feels the icy Atlantic hit his skin he wakes up in a familiar cell wearing a familiar blue jumpsuit with Fredrick Chilton telling him he’s free to go over 4 years before the Dragon ever struck.
Relationships: Will Graham & Abigail Hobbs, Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 22
Kudos: 224





	Hide Us From the Wrath of the Lamb

**Author's Note:**

> I got bored and this happened, let me know how far you want me to take it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 6/13/20: Chapter two is in the works but I made a cover for this story (soon to be crossposted on my wattpad (@SixBlackRoses) and I wanted to share it with you guys!

The dragon is bleeding and the two wolves circle him, eyes meeting and reveling at the sight of the beasts beneath their human skin coming to the surface. The taller man swipes a hatchet at the dragon’s leg and the smaller one drives the short blade of his pocket knife deep into the meat of his calves. They are both panting, bloody from their own wounds and those they’d inflicted on their prey. 

Will is unsteady but manages to give as much as he got, unafraid of driving the blade into the man who called himself a dragon. When his eyes met Hannibal’s they seemed to be on the same wavelength, plan set in motion. The older killer runs at Dolarhyde, leaping onto his back and yanking his head back to expose his jugular. Will drives his blade as deep as it could go in the man’s stomach and drags it across, spilling the man’s guts as Hannibal sinks his teeth into the man’s throat and _rips_. 

The dragon falls slowly, blood spurting from his neck and pouring from his gut and Will feels a swell of pride at the sight knowing he’d helped put him in that state. Not just because he’d hurt his family, but because it feels so good to feel the fat part and muscle rip at his blade, by his _hands_. He knew going into this it would be different, that he wouldn’t be able to come back from it, be normal again. He’d planned for it, practically told Bedelia that would be the case, told Hannibal.

_“I don’t think I can save myself. Maybe that’s just fine.”_

He turns his blue eyes to the blood that coats his hands, his arms, practically every part of his body, and snorts quietly to himself as he stretches his arm to Hannibal, a memory floating through his mind.

“It really does look black in the moonlight,” He coughs out a laugh as Hannibal pulls him up, supporting his weight until Will can get his legs working well enough to stand.

They stand over the ocean in the light of the moon panting and bleeding, their eyes never traveling away from the other. Finally truly alone they could call out the beasts within and just _be_ , even if they both knew it wouldn’t be for long. Will clutches the sleeve of Hannibal’s shirt and the taller man pulls him closer, gripping the bit of wet fabric by Will’s waist.

“See? This is all I ever wanted for you, Will,” Hannibal pauses, breathing heavily and finally looking away from Will to stare at the blood at their feet. “For both of us.”

Will feels his emotions swell at the honesty that drenched the man’s words, he wheezes as he chuckles and pushes himself closer to the cannibal. 

“It’s beautiful.” He smiles through the pain and dizziness he feels and he means it because it _is_. 

The curly haired brunette’s hand travels to the ex-psychiatrist’s arm to his shoulder as he lays his head against Hannibal’s bloody chest. He feels the relief pour from Hannibal’s body as he finally holds Will. He nuzzles the brunette’s head with his own and closes his eyes, thanking God for allowing him this after so much heartbreak between them. Will’s other hand finds Hannibal’s right wrist and guides the bloody appendage to his waist. It’s _intimate._ The air thick with emotion, with that familiar tension that had been between them every time they met each others’ eyes since they were introduced and the longer Will stands in it the more he realizes how it’s too late. 

Jack would find the cops dead soon if he hadn’t already, they’d find them, and they couldn’t do a thing about it. Hannibal was shot, likely had internal bleeding, and Will was bleeding from multiple stab wounds. They would never be able to out match the FBI’s guns. It was over.

Bedelia’s words from their final meeting ring in his head.

_“Can’t live with him, can’t live without him.”_

He realizes it was true. He needs Hannibal, has needed him for all the years he’d been locked away as much as he’d tried to deny it, as much as he’d hated it and himself for it.

He brings his arm around Hannibal’s neck and tugs them over the edge of the cliff. The taller man doesn’t fight him, just holds him tighter as they fall toward the ocean.

There was no sound, no words, no screams. Just the wind rushing past their ears and the waves crashing against the bluff.

Will feels the icy salt water of the Atlantic hit his skin, expects some kind of hot pain as the impact kills him or injures him beyond repair, but feels nothing. Not even Hannibal’s warmth in his arms. He shoots up, blue eyes wide to the familiar sight of grey walls and silver bars, the constricting feeling blue jumpsuit rough against his skin and the uncomfortable wire frame beneath the thin mat that could barely be considered a bed under his weight.

His breath caught in his throat as he looked at the walls of his old cell at Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. His hair was long at his neck and his cheek no longer cut, not even scarred, and his shoulder only carried the familiar ache from his previous stab wound and gunshot where there should’ve been two of each. He could hear the tapping of a cane with footsteps approaching his cell and he forced his face to remain neutral as Chilton stopped in front of the bars and looked at him with narrow eyes.

The man was supposed to be burned, lips ripped off by the Dragon’s fake teeth, but there he stood not a single scar visible. Same as last time he’d been in this god-forsaken place, Chilton gave his annoyed spiel about his coming release since evidence had been found proving his innocence. When he leaves Will is finally able to actually _think_ about what’s happening.

He’d either somehow dreamed of his every action, and the consequences of those actions, for the next three or so years or he’d managed to somehow travel through time. Neither made sense but Will didn’t feel like it was a dream. Whether it was or not he could feel it like he lived it, it’s real to him. He wonders if Hannibal saw it, lived it, too.

From here he sees two choices: running away with Hannibal or directing Jack’s attention away from him. Either way he isn’t going to squander this second chance he has. The chance to take his relationship with Hannibal to the level it was always going to go if it didn’t kill them first, the chance to be a family with him, with Abigail. Because here Abigail is alive, and Hannibal is free, and Will has a chance to make sure the future he experienced never happens. If that means killing Jack or Chilton or Alana or _anyone,_ Will would do it. He hardly knows himself as well as Hannibal knows him, but Will has never known himself as well as he knows himself when he’s _with_ Hannibal. He can only assume that the universe or God or something similar just got tired of him not seeing it, not accepting it. He can only guess that it’s why he’s here.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's short but it's only the intro, the next couple of chapters are going to follow the show pretty close (and be eerily similar to two other Hannibal stories I'm working on because I'm obsessed with re-writing season 2 because I just want them to be happy and live their married murder husband lives together.


End file.
